#but he chose the one that let him claim martyrdom

[kaipassedgo]

every day i wake up and am mad at the end of steves storyline and the full and complete lack of people who GET IT

[ninakaina]

Hey man, wasn’t trying to be patronizing, just wanted to add a little bit of context for my followers (I have like 20 of them) who have not heard of Mishima and who wouldn’t be inclined to go googling. I can see how such a surface-level screenshot might have been grating to someone who’s neck-deep in Japanese politics, and for that I am sorry. About equating beauty, eroticism, and death though, this is a conclusion I reached while researching Nazi aesthetics; I wasn’t trying to derail the conversation, even if I had that ability. You mention wondering if Catholicism counted, and while I don’t know enough about it to say (not a historian), I do notice that many, many fundamentalist Catholics today are proud fascists. I am not married to this hypothesis, but it did come about through my own critical thinking so I’d be interested to know if you have a more detailed beef with it (if you’ve got the time/inclination to argue with me about art theory, just tell me to piss off if not).

i appreciate the apology i just as a member of the "do your own research" camp chose not to include any specific information on that post so that the curious could do actual non-wikipedia research and learn all about the situation and the incurious wouldnt walk away with a wikipedia blurb understanding of the situation - the point of the post wasnt even "heads up, mishima was an ultranationalist" but rather "mishima was completely insignificant to the history and politics of japan, an interesting case study in one crazy guy if you're into that, but do not let anything anyone tells you about him influence your idea of what it is to be japanese" because a lot of people in the west who ARE aware of who and what he was still discuss him as a cultural icon and a representative of Old Japan when that only gives power to his mythology by legitimizing both racism against japanese people and ultranationalism within japanese politics. the many tags where people are going "mishima was an idiot who killed himself moron style", while kind of annoying, are more in line with the message im trying to send here.

as an aside i don't use the term fascism to refer to the politics of mishima or the meiji restoration because i think it erases the salient differences between that ideology and say, nazism, (including that i'd argue japanese ultranationalism doesn't do away with noble class structure or imagine a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie in the way that is distinctive of fascism as opposed to other forms of ultranationalism) and kind of encourages people not to learn about the actual context or mechanics of japanese ultranationalism, so your tags also rubbed me the wrong way for that reason.

in general i think any claim that any type of imagery in art is inherently fascist (that isn't like, an explicit Fascist Agenda) is flawed and weirdly anti-art. eroticism/beauty/death is kind of one of the most classic combinations of themes which you can find throughout history and across the world, just because eroticism and beauty and death are like basically the most intense emotional concepts that can be represented in art. yeah catholic depictions of martyrdom come to mind bc they go crazy but like truly i would challenge you to find any "the death of ___" art from any era that doesnt invoke beauty and eroticism in some way depending on whos looking at it. like i dont know what kind of blogs you follow but all the talk of artistic/erotic cannibalism thats been popular on tumblr is an example of eroticism/beauty/death. idk its just everywhere and your thesis sounds like something that can be selectively/subjectively applied to call art you dont like fascist

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

Alright, I didn’t want to make this post, but here we are.

A few days ago, JK Rowling released what many are already calling her TERF manifesto. Skillfully blending TERF dogwhistles (trans activists, double think, censorship, dysphoria) with meaningless concessions towards the trans community, it was designed to strike like an arrow, to muddle her claims and soften her views enough for transphobes to call it clear-headed, rational, and right while trans people saw her disdain within and reacted accordingly, letting her supporters paint them as irrational and thoughtless.

Chief among her grievances with the trans community, besides an outdated, highly offensive claim that trans women are sexual predators and that they were too quick to condemn her for accidentally liking a transphobic tweet (funny, your excuse back then was that you were simply tired that day, not that it was an accident in research) is that girls will inevitably transition or be forced into transitions simply for being empowered women and that feminism will collapse. After all, she felt "sexless” in her youth, and this other woman felt sexless, and if she could have become a boy she would have to escape the pressures of femininity. If children were allowed to transition, EVERY girl would no doubt try to escape. 

Well, I’m a cis woman, who used to think I was nonbinary or perhaps even a trans man. I’m the poster child TERFs long for, a woman who was unfairly pressured by the trans community into denouncing her femininity, the picture of everything they fear could happen if the evil transes had their way.

Except for the fact that that wasn’t how it happened. At all.

Like most kids, I started off as a genderless little sprout. Unlike most kids, I got to stay that way for longer than most, since my autism barred me from fully understanding the meaning of “boy” or “girl” long after my classmates quietly began performing one or the other in accordance with social norms. It didn’t make any sense to me. My mother had short hair, but me having short hair meant I was half boy half girl. Things like playing in the dirt or the color pink or talking a lot or reading weren’t just things, they each had a gender to them, and whatever gender that was changed daily. I thought I got it when I came across the term tomboy, but then my sister gave me a list of things I had to do to be a tomboy (ride skateboards, wear a certain brand, be dumb) and I noped out of that real quick. The other girls knew I was not like them and they never hesitated to remind me of that fact. All things considered, I’m surprised it took me until seventh grade before a guy bluntly accused me of secretly having a penis, along with other insults I don’t see fit to repeat.

(A few months later, I accidentally slapped him so hard he blacked out during P.E. And I got away with it too, since the teacher saw it wasn’t on purpose. It’s one of my better memories of that school.)

Fast-forward a decade of unlearning prejudice, creating my soul, finding myself, and some serious growing up, and I started to get the idea that I could be another gender. After all, I had felt genderless for a long time, and I kinda liked masculine things. So I experimented. I tried on new clothes, new pronouns, new expressions. And at every step, the trans community encouraged me. For the first time in my life, there were no rules attached to my gender, no boxes except the ones I stepped into or made for myself. “Whatever fits!” They answered, at any question. Every time I got the idea that I had to be x or y or z, it would be gently dissuaded. Labels were just that: labels, not lists, not requirements. 

At the end, I decided that I liked being a girl. My own version of a girl, to be sure, autistic, rebellious, kinda burgundy,  kinda “too tired to perform”. And of course they closed ranks, locked me in a room, chanted about my internalized....ha ha, nah, they did as they always had. “Good for you!” “Well at least now you know!” “Come back anytime!” Shockingly, it seems that trans people are just fine with cis people as long as we don’t turn around and try to brainwash/abuse/murder them immediately afterward on the incredibly poor grounds of “well I wasn’t trans so none of you must be either!”. My time with the trans community didn’t “tarnish my womanhood” or whatever TERFs like to claim, but reaffirmed it as something my own rather than something someone else decided for me. 

In the end, gender presentation is just another way to wear a soul so that others might see it.  And no matter how dearly other beings, in our selfish ways, wish we could make souls to factory standards and remold them in the images we find most pleasing, they revolt against all attempts at pruning, sculpting, and boxing them into any shapes but the ones they are. Only the soul can create itself. A person wearing their soul so that you can see is a privilege, and throwing it away based on fear, bigotry, and ignorance is a tragedy. I have been cruel in the past, and I hope to never be so cruel again.

We as a species aren’t capable of telepathy, but it doesn’t stop us from trying, from writing and reading endless stories of what goes on other’s heads. Radfems have their own stories, their martyrdom, their denial of soul and choice and power, and they will tell them again and again, writ large across the entire human race. Well, here is my story, only my own, but true all the same. A cis woman who experimented and not only wasn’t harmed or traumatized, but enlightened. Who came out of the experience better, not just in my own identity, but in increased empathy with those that chose other paths.

Burgundy really is a lovely color.

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for 17th Mon per annum (II)

Jer 13:1-11; Dt 32:18-21; Matt 13:31-35

What are these things “hidden since the foundation of the world”? St Augustine once reflected that God is “more inward to me than my most inward part, and higher than my highest”. In other words, God is hidden within me, closer to me than I am to myself; it is God within the human person who makes each and every human person to be sacred and precious and loved. For, as we said in our psalm response: it is God who fathered us.

The intimate closeness of God is often forgotten, especially in difficult times when we might be tempted to feel abandoned by God. Many, during this pandemic and especially when the churches were locked, wondered, perhaps, where God is. St Augustine would say that God is within us, especially within the Christian soul, which has been claimed by Christ and configured to him by grace. For, indeed, Jesus tells us in St Luke’s Gospel: “The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed; nor will they say, `Lo, here it is!' or `There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.” (Lk 17:20-21)

The prophet Jeremiah uses another image that describes the closeness of God to us, an image that is almost uncomfortably intimate, but which also points to the hiddenness of God. The Lord says: “just as a loincloth clings to a man’s waist, so I had intended the whole House of Judah to cling to me… to be my people”. For despite certain fashion trends, one does not wear one’s undergarments on the outside, to be paraded and seen by all. No, the image of God as the loincloth, an undergarment, is an image of the hidden intimacy of God with his chosen ones.

For you and I, my brothers and sisters in Christ – we, who have been chosen and called by God through holy baptism – we have been intimately bound by God to himself. And his presence, his grace, though hidden from human eyes, grows within us, like a mustard seed or like yeast in the dough. For God loves us and he desires our union with him through love. This is the thing hidden since the foundation of the world, which Christ comes to reveal and make known to all peoples, through the Church, through the Sacraments, and above all, through the acts of sacrificial love that we show for one another.

Today we English Dominicans celebrate the feast day of a Blessed whom we know very little about. His was a hidden life, but we have these basic facts. He was born in Burnley, trained with his brother on the Continent for the priesthood, and after Ordination both brothers returned to England to serve the mission. Both were betrayed and imprisoned, and both returned immediately to give to English Catholics the one thing they knew we couldn’t live without: the Sacraments of the Church, especially the Holy Mass. The fact that Blessed Robert Nutter returned to England despite having been imprisoned and exiled and despite the execution of his brother Bl. John Nutter, shows us his sacrificial love for Christ and for God’s chosen people in this land. And then, some time before his own martyrdom in 1600, during his final period of imprisonment, he joined the Dominican Order. Why he did this, and how he did this, and the manner of Dominican life he lived are all hidden from us. All that is known is that God chose him, and called him, and loved him, and there, within the hidden intimacy of his heart and soul, God fashioned for us a Friar Preacher, who would become the only Dominican martyr of the English Reformation period. And as a Friar Preacher, his sacrificial love and his martyr’s death would be the most eloquent sermon necessary. For, in giving his life like Christ did, he preached the hidden love of God; a love that did not fear death but indeed conquered death. Through the visible sign of his martyrdom, Blessed Robert Nutter makes manifest the hidden love and grace of God that was at work in his life; the hidden wisdom of God from all ages now revealed in the Resurrection of Christ and his saints: that love is stronger than death.

But even in his risen life, Jesus often plays hide and seek with us. And so it is that, even though we have faith in the Resurrection, and even as we gather here today with hope and love, especially love for the ones we miss, we do not always see clearly the presence and abiding love of God in our day to day lives. For God’s love is hidden within us, hidden like the yeast in the dough, hidden like the loincloth that clings to us. And so, we can, at times, forget the God who fathered us. But God never forgets us for he is closer to me than I am to myself.

As we gather for this Holy Mass which Christ asked us to do in remembrance of him, let us remember this: God is with us.

[unclefungusthegoat]

Will The Circle Be Unbroken? - Far Cry 5 Week (Day 6): Music

Hello all! So in all honesty, I wrote most of this an entire year ago hahaha, for the Hope County Gothic Festival but got really shy about posting it. But I figured I could use it for the Far Cry 5 Week, for the Music day! It’s a songfic, featuring a song that I really wish had been in the game - Will The Circle Be Unbroken and it’s FUNERAL FIC HOOORAAAAY. 

Here is the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F1l6xXLSI0

Get ready for some ALTERNATIVE EULOGIES too, because sadness is fun.

This can be read on AO3: HERE

All my FC5 Week fics can be read: HERE

Trigger Warnings: Canonical Major Character Deaths, Mentions of Child Abuse, Mentions of Drowning, Decomposition, Fire and Funeral Pyres

The ceasefire was fragile.

Undefined.

No flag upon ramparts, or ink marked on a page. Just an agreement, whispered, gestured and silently promised, that a single night would be set apart for retrieval and burial of the dead. Sundown until sunrise. Not a shot to be fired, confession to be heard, building to be bombed, or heretic strung up. Just stillness and rest. A new Sabbath, of sorts. And for the people of Hope County who spent vast swathes of the day clinging to their lives, it seemed nothing short of a miracle.

It was on this night, on a dusty road through the dead farmland, that a procession of faithful came marching. Their faces were turned to the darkened sky. Eyes burning with sorrow, searing vibrantly like stardust. Alight with fury. Dampened with grief. And with their gaze, they spared no glance for the heretics who lined the path. No care for the vengeful, who bit their tongues and held in their spittle, and sought a glance of the dead to ease their blood lust. Not even a thought for the sinner who had taken so much, challenged their holy purpose. Given them this weight upon their shoulders.

The Father led with faltering step.

His eyes were hazy behind tinted glass. His fingers trembled. His scars, his sins, seemed to burn. But his voice was resolute, the melody echoing through the dark:

There are loved ones in the glory, Whose dear forms you often miss; When you close your earthly story, Will you join them in their bliss?

Carried aloft upon the faithful’s shoulders, upon beds made from velvet, slept the Heralds of Eden. Stilled into a long awaited peace, punctures incarnadine between their ribs a stark reminder of how they had suffered.

Each lay daubed in their own decay.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

It was a song they had always known.

And though it was his flock that called the hymn forth, Joseph could only hear Jacob's low timbre, humming it to ease him into sleep when the belt marks on his back cut too deep. After Old Mad Seed had bellowed Bible verses in his ears, and torn heathen drawings from where they were pinned proudly on the bedroom wall. On the school bus after another endless night hearing Mother scream.

Then slowly he heard his own voice, tinged with a weariness too antiquated for how young he had been. He heard it reverberate through the orphanage halls, the eve before John had been taken away. He'd stroked his brother's hair and caught his tears with his thumbs, and sang until the sun rose:

In the joyous days of childhood, Oft they told of wondrous love, Pointed to the dying Saviour; Now they dwell with Him above.

The lyrics had been worn down by their use when he had been alone. Comforting. Protective. Like an old pair of boots too reliable to cast aside, or a threadbare blanket that still smells of home.

Or the memory of a brother stood boldly in the fire’s glow.

“Jacob...”

Dog tags now around his own neck, metal scraping with every step.

A blood soaked rabbit’s foot.

“You sought purpose. You were lost. I showed you who you once were, and opened your eyes to the Garden you were born to protect. And you cast aside your weakness- the weariness wrought deep within your soul by governments and generals who sought to use your compassion for their selfish ideals. You became strong, brother. You sheltered our Eden with a heart forged in battle. You asked nothing but brotherhood in return. You embraced your family with the strength of gods. And you carried that strength until the end.”

The Soldier, freshly slain, lay proud, like a Viking martyr. Knife threaded between his fingers, the ancient burns that speckled him like rust on the armour he still seemed to bear. His Judges crowned the mountain ledges, howling to the night sky. In the torchlight, his fiery hair shimmered like copper wire; a fleeting glance might think it a halo encircling his skull. His mind, once full of the horrors of war, now quieted. His mouth, that knew the taste of man, free to taste the soil.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

“Faith...”

He had yet to choose another.

None else had her heart, her spirit, her devotion.

“There were some who thought you cruel. Calculating. Jezebel incarnate. They did not understand that you were a mother, and with the burden of motherhood comes a heavy hand. I chose you because you did not shy away from the lessons children must learn. You took the lost and gave them wings. You took the despairing and gave them hope. You took the sick of soul and gave them peace. You took the name of Seed and let it’s glory shine through you. Rest well, my sister. Sleep well, my Faith.”

The Siren once wielded beauty. Now her face was swollen and pallid, bloated where the water had filled her pores and the creatures of the lake had begun to strip her skin away. Yet how sweetly she was scented by the flowers in her flaxen hair! It mingled with the fresh smell of the trees and the distant tang of smoke, heightened in the darkness, when the senses are keen. Even in death, she seduced onlookers with her song. A song composed of silence, of hope and dreams now lost, underscored with the cries of those who mourned.

You remember songs of heaven Which you sang with childish voice, Do you love the hymns they taught you, Or are songs of earth your choice?

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

“John...”

He’d finally reached the sky.

Feathered his wings.

Joseph’s heart was fracturing. Oh, the things he wished to say...

“I carry your sin upon my shoulder, that same shoulder three times you felt bitten by wrath. It is a sin of neglect. Neglect of your faith and your body, and by that, God, for we are made in his image. You saw a god every time you glanced in a mirror. A cruel world made you vain and selfish, and the child who had suffered so greatly thought you invincible. You drowned in your pride, as I drown in my regret that I could not save you. I pray that you know my disappointment, John, and I beg mercy for your soul. In all my prayers, and my dreams of eternity together, I ask only that God sees how very hard you tried.”

The Baptist had rotted where he had fallen, swallowed by the damp earth. Shards of dirt had claimed the sorrows inked upon his flesh, the stories he’d wanted to the world to know. His palms were frayed by rope. His lungs were lined with lead. But now he lay in the starlight, arisen from nature’s oesophagus to be cleansed and laid to rest with honour. The bones of his collapsing face seemed testament to how he’d be forgotten. But oh, how they cried his name! A saint, redeemed. A sinner, saved.

You can picture happy gath'rings 'Round the fireside long ago, And you think of tearful partings, When they left you here below.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

In the distance, he could see the pyres silhouetted by the moonlight. Though their bodies were cold, his Heralds would soon feel warmth again, and the embers that rose from the flames would carry their souls to the stars.

It would be a sight remembered for an age; the first flames of a Collapse long awaited.

And soon, all would burn-

-------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph’s eyes flickered open, and the fuchsia tinge of this new world’s morning mist settled into view. He sat lost in the blossoming forest, somewhere near the old compound. Sweet nectar scented the air. Damp grass and sodden earth cocooned his feet. He shivered slightly, his naked chest baptized by the dew.

Before him lay a single grave, shallow and solitary. Dirt was unceremoniously cast across it, and a rusted iron crucifix of Eden’s Gate, now New Eden, stood guard.

No flowers.

No velvet.

No choir of lamenting brothers and sisters.

Not even their names.

His body had whined under the strain of shovelling. Age and years of almost starving had weakened his arms, but when the Judge had offered to accompany him, to put to rest the overwhelming guilt that had consumed them, and to move the dirt for him, he gently refused. He owed it to his family to do it himself. It had taken him days to hike across the county, alone with only his memories, to collect their remains. What little remained of them after all those years.

He had had not the strength, or enough of them left, to dig three.

But they were reunited now, in eternal embrace. No ceremony. No procession. No pomp and martyrdom, as he had dreamed. Their resting place was the picture of modesty. Humility. A grave for the truly devoted. Their bones would turn to chalk and clay, and they would feed the insects and the reawakened soil.

Watch the new Eden grow.

Someday he’d be buried there with them.

Together forever.

And he thought, as he rested beside them to finish their song:

What more had they ever wanted?

One by one their seats were emptied, One by one they went away; Now the family is parted, Will it be complete one day?

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

[scummy-writes]

For the Unpopular opinion (Hope I didn't miss it ^^;) I really really HATE V as a character. Not for not doing anything about Rika's mental illness (despite claiming to love her), not for putting on the martyrdom cloak but for lying straight to Seven's face about Saeran. I've got siblings and would do the same thing as Seven did if need be, but if I was Seven, I would personally make sure he payed dearly if they ended up like Saeran. V knew very well and did nothing which is just as bad as Rika.

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

hhhhHHhhhHH this is hard because yes, I agree about the lying to Seven’s face thing- That’s ultimately what made him severely drop in personal character fave ranking, but from what I remember correctly he did try to help R*ka? R*ka herself chose not to continue going to therapy/taking medication and whatnot, and while V didn’t really take the right steps in that whole regard, R*ka herself is the only one that could swallow medication and open herself up to a therapist. 

I mean, I’ve lived with someone for 8 years that my family had begged and pleaded to go seek therapy and regularly take medication and he absolutely refused to and refused to see that there was something wrong with him- even when it escalated to verbal abuse and such. We tried our damnedest to get him the help he needed, daily reminders for medications and buying special med boxes etc etc, but man...You can lead a horse to water, but you cant make it drink. 

And while V found out about the cult and was actively trying to infiltrate it and stop R*ka (and therefore stop the pain Saeran was going through), he didn’t force the elixir down Saeran’s throat or brainwash him. I mean yeah, it’s shitty he didn’t like. Idk, call the mcfuckin cops, but abusive relationships really fuck with your brain.

Yeah, V lying to Seven’s face was fucking terrible and I liked him a whole lot before AS and now I don’t really favor him that much at all, but I don’t think it’s cool to repeatedly blame him for R*ka’s refusal to get better.

Still 100% valid not to like him as a character tho! I’m not like. Hatin on you, just trying to explain that with the things you listed, I don’t really agree with the ‘he didn’t help her enough’ aspect. I don’t really like him now either... I also dont agree with the uh killing thing because aaaaaa lets not go there

Also yes! You guys can still send them in! My computer stopped updating finally but I don’t midn doing these for a while longer.

[arcticdementor]

Hello all, from Siena, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I’m spending the night here before heading out tomorrow with a friend to make a pilgrimage, more on which tomorrow. Meanwhile, Ross Douthat’s column today makes for extremely sobering reading. He writes that America looks like a declining empire (an observation that I have heard again and again over the last eight days from worried European conservatives):

…

Are we Rome? I have had that question front to mind for at least twenty years, I guess. Sixteen years ago, when I first started writing about the idea that became my book The Benedict Option, the concept of America as an exhausted imperial power seemed kind of insane. We were the globe’s hyperpower, and though we had walked into a buzzsaw in Iraq, most people would not have taken seriously the late Imperial Rome comparison. To refresh your memory, what gave me the Benedict Option concept was philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre’s comparison of our time to the last days of the Roman West, and his claim that people of virtue today – those who want to hold on to the old traditions of the West – should make an exit of this dying civilization and form communities within which those virtues can be lived out.

When he said that we await a new and doubtless very different St. Benedict, he meant that we need a figure like Benedict of Nursia, who can respond creatively to the crisis of our time, and forge a new way of living fruitfully under these circumstances. My own claim is that all of us faithful small-o orthodox Christians must be Benedicts of the 21st century. This dying empire is not going to be saved, so the best we can do is figure out concrete ways to keep the Christian faith alive through this new dark age, preserving the light for the rebirth we pray will come, though surely long after we pass from this earth.

My project received what I counted as a tremendous vote of confidence in 2015 when, visiting the Benedictine monastery in Norcia (the saint’s hometown), the then-prior, Father Cassian Folsom, heard me out, then said that any Christian family who expects to endure through the coming storm will have to follow some version of the Benedict Option.

I published the book in 2017, as you know, and it engendered immediate controversy. I expected that, and some of the debate was good. After all, I could be wrong, and if so, I want to know it. But most of the griping was from people who had not read the book, and were sure that I was simply saying to head for the hills and pull up the drawbridge. As I made clear in the book itself, I don’t believe that there is any real head-for-the-hills escape available to us, but we must nevertheless figure out ways to live with a disciplined faith even as we remain embedded within society.

The example I point to is Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego, the three young Hebrew men from the Book of Daniel, who were so embedded within Babylonian society that they were advisers to the king. But when that king ordered them to worship an idol, they all chose the prospect of martyrdom before apostasy. For us, the Benedict Option lesson is to figure out how those faithful Hebrew men lived in Babylon without letting Babylon live in them. If we can master that, we have a chance.

…

In 2021, the late Roman metaphor is a lot less extreme than it seemed in 2005, or even in 2017. Again, read the Douthat column. I fully agree with him that the US had to withdraw from Afghanistan, but that the withdrawal, and the hubris that led America to attempt nation-building in the first place, reveals us to be a nation in imperial decline. One can be grateful that we are moving away from empire – I certainly am – while also recognizing that such a decline will have seriously bad consequences, or at least is closely associated with seriously bad consequences.

It seems increasingly clear that this century belongs to China. I don’t like this at all. China has figured out what neither Mao nor Stalin knew: how to be rich and totalitarian. The Chinese also seem to be figuring out from watching us how to avoid some of the things that are leading to our own disintegration. Did you notice that the Chinese have now banned young people from playing video games for more than three hours a week during the school week? When I read that, I thought about my physician friend telling me a couple of years ago that he is starting to see in his office a parade of young men from good middle class families who are failing to thrive. All they want to do is play video games and smoke pot. The Chinese also have taken a harder line against LGBT thought and expression, banning LGBT accounts from the WeChat service.

…

One worries about this behavior because that sort of instability makes it harder to form stable families, which are necessary for the continuation of civilization. But that’s not all of it. The Hungarian woman told me her son and all his friends say that they don’t want to have children. They are all terrified of climate catastrophe. Imagine that: this boy’s grandparents and great-grandparents endured World War II; his grandparents and parents endured Communism. He was born into a free Hungary, one that was growing more prosperous than the previous two generations could have dreamed, and yet he, and his generation, are losing the will to live, and dissipating themselves in hedonistic chaos and despair.

…

China is facing a population crash. Its leaders understand that the future of their country depends on its people being willing to produce future generations. They do not want to encourage Western ideologies that make that task more difficult.

In 1947, Carle C. Zimmerman, head of Harvard’s sociology department, published his book Family And Civilization, which deserves to be rediscovered. In it, he traces in history the connection between family structures and civilizational thriving and decline. Zimmerman found that the strongest family form is what he called the “domestic” family: one that offers more freedom to the individual than its predecessor, the “trustee” family (i.e., the clan), and one that is stronger than its successor, the “nuclear” family. In studying ancient Greece, Rome, and the Middle Ages, Zimmerman found that family structure goes in cycles: trustee à domestic à nuclear. Then there is civilizational collapse, after which the cycle begins again. Zimmerman writes of our own time:

There is little left now within the family or the moral code to hold this family together. Mankind [by which he meant Western man] has consumed not only the crop, but the seed for the next planting as well. Whatever may be our Pollyanna inclination, this fact cannot be avoided. Under any assumptions, the implications will be far reaching for the future not only of the family but of our civilization as well. The question is no longer a moral one; it is social. It is no longer familistic; it is cultural. The very continuation of our culture seems to be inextricably associated with this nihilism in family behavior.

…

Zimmerman wrote this in 1947. He missed the Baby Boom, but otherwise he is right on target. Moreover, as I wrote last year, David Brooks authored an essay pointing out that we are living through the most rapid change in family structure in human history. Brooks quotes academic experts who observe that in America (and I would say the West generally), people see marriage now in terms of adult self-fulfillment, not primarily about raising children.

…

Ours is a culture that wants to die.

Similarly, I am always struck when I visit Europe by how passive most Europeans are in the face of waves of migration washing over their continent – waves that are going to turn into a tsunami in this century, given the African birth rate. We saw this in ancient Rome too, with the barbarian invasions. Romans lost the capacity and the will to prevent other peoples from taking their lands. Central European peoples – Hungarians and Poles, in particular – seem to be the only ones who are willing to fight for their own existence as a people.

Three years ago, in a speech to university students, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban said:

A situation can arise in one country or another whereby ten percent or more of the total population is Muslim. We can be sure that they will never vote for a Christian party. And when we add to this Muslim population those of European origin who are abandoning their Christian traditions, then it will no longer be possible to win elections on the basis of Christian foundations. Those groups preserving Christian traditions will be forced out of politics, and decisions about the future of Europe will be made without them. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the situation, this is the goal, and this is how close we are to seeing it happen.

I’m telling you, Viktor Orban is perhaps the only Western leader who has such a clear vision about the crisis of our time. It is not just a political crisis. It is an existential crisis for Western civilization. The fact that Orban understands what so many of the rest of our leaders do not, or will not, and the fact that he has the courage to say these things in public, tells you why I think that the future of the West, if we have one, depends on Hungary more than we know. Americans who don’t know a thing about Hungary repeat the moronic allegation that it’s a “fascist” country — something even Orban’s Hungarian critics don’t do.

Unlike Orban, who is not ashamed of his culture, Western European elites – and American ones too – can only describe Western civilization as a catalogue of horrors leaving suicide as the only honorable option available to Westerners. For example, I learned just the other day that Cambridge University, one of the oldest and most venerable in the West, is on its way towards “decolonizing” its Classics department.

If the Soviets or the Nazis had invaded Britain and forced this on Cambridge, we would know exactly what we were seeing: an attempt to subjugate the United Kingdom for a totalitarian ideology by erasing its historical memory. This is happening now – and it is being done by people inside Britain – by a thoroughly corrupt elite that seeks to destroy the foundations of their own civilization in the name of utopia.

For civilizations, patricide is suicide. We know this. We are watching it happen. We execrate the fast and abandon the future. We have concluded that ours is not a civilization worth defending, and propagandize our young to believe the same thing.

I will not defend a social and cultural order that despises the Christian faith, despises the traditional family, despises our common civilizational heritage, and that is working to punish, even persecute, those who will not take a knee before its idols. I will not fight for this culture of death. Will you? Should you? How can we defend America, our home, as patriots, without defending what decadent America has become? Is it possible?

These questions are going to come rushing to the fore domestically as American power recedes. In Italy these past few days, and again in Hungary this weekend, I have heard the same refrain from Catholics: the belief that Netflix in particular and American popular culture in general is corrupting their children. They grew up admiring America, and what we stood for; now they see us as an agent of their own destruction. How are they wrong? The culture producers who are doing this to the Europeans are doing it to us Americans too, and doing it to the whole world. Two years ago, at a Benedict Option conference in Massachusetts, I heard a Nigerian Anglican bishop talk about why his country needs the Benedict Option. I found this hard to understand, but he explained that the influence of US popular culture, pumping its morals into the heads of Nigerian youth through their smartphones, was alienating the next generation from the Christian faith, and Christian morality.

I want to say one more thing about Viktor Orban, drawing on that 2018 speech I cite above. When I tell you that the American media lie constantly about what Orban is, this is what I mean. They say he’s a fascist. Tell me, does this sound like a fascist to you?

…

You can say this is illiberal – and Orban would agree with you. But “fascist”? Give me a break.

You see maybe why I think that with the possible exception of the Poles – I don’t know enough to say one way or the other – Viktor Orban is the only Western leader who reads the signs of the times, and is prepared to fight against the dying of the light. American conservatives ought to stand with him, and with Hungary. The alternative is the decadence and dissolution we see around us – and that is also coming to Hungary, borne by pervasive Anglo-American pop culture. Maybe Hungary too will capitulate. But it’s not going down without a fight.

Part of that fight has to include the formation of Benedict Option-style communities, as places of spiritual and cultural regeneration. To that end, I was thrilled to see that PM Orban recommended the Hungarian translation of The Benedict Option to his people. That’s it, second from top:

…

MacIntyre is not telling us to created these little communities for the sake of shoring up the imperium. He is saying that the crisis is too deep for that. Read in light of Sherrard’s lines, we see that to save what we can, we have to begin with our own repentance, our own turning away from the wicked city of the plain that is in the process of destroying itself.

[lovehoarder]

Yes! @a-changeling-in-love Thank you for asking (and for the compliment) im frothing at the mouth to tell.

Religion CW for the absolute essay below

So, the most symbolism is put into Matt's side, because in terms of tarot I already heavily associated Matt w the hanged man bc of this one page from the Waid run.

I've talked about it before on this blog and I had it as my lock screen for a while. While I am a tarot practitioner and immediately went "The Hanged Man!" This was more than likely a reference to St. Peter, who died on the cross upside down because he felt himself unworthy to die as Jesus did. However, considering that Tarot was (to my knowledge) originally a card game that became popular in Italy and France (two very Catholic countries) it seems up to reason that the two are more than likely connected.

That being said Matt also invokes the hanged man in his actions, the card ultimately means self sacrifice and martyrdom, to give so that yourself, or in Matt's case, others, can grow. Matt constantly postures himself as the protector of Hells Kitchen, sacrificing not only his body but, occasionally, his morals in his fight to make the city better.

The other thing that I did for Matt was a reference to the season 2 promo art, which in itself is a reference to a particular painting of Saint Sebastian

Now, why Saint Sebastian? I don't know. I'm not catholic so all my info comes from a Google search, but there's an unsubstantiated claim on Wikipedia that St Sebastian is the patron of (among other things) disabled people, which would be relevant in Matt's case. But there is a more substantial history of him being a protector. Specicifically of plague. The role of protector and the patron of disabled people may be why they drew the parallels, but I simply drew them because they were there and I think they're Neat.

Now for Elias. There isn't nearly as much to be said. I feel like I could've gone a lot of ways with him. The other one I seriously considered was The Tower because in the DC version of Elias (the one that I ship w Adrian Chase) fakes the death of his vigilante persona, Macabre, by letting a building fall on him (he gets better) and, as the Tower symbolizes in Tarot, it is ultimately his downfall.

But that's without Matt, and after the death of his friend Edie, two people who are pretty integral to his morality.

I chose Death because Elias ultimately views himself as a Prometheus figure, in an endless cycle of death and renewal whether he likes it or not. Elias is also a shapeshifter, and Death is a card that means change and transition. Keying in on the transition, his skull mask over his face and the hood behind him are both kind of references to Janus, the two-faced Roman God of transitions and protector of boundaries.

In the corner of Elias' card is yew branches, considered holy and protectors of the dead in some cultures.

Another small detail in Matt's card (which I did while I was still considering what Elias' was going to be) is the stars behind him. I had also considered The Star card for Matt but (as explained) I have deeper connections with him as the hanged man. Still, The Star in Tarot comes after The Tower, the downfall of pride and the disaster, and represents hope and the rebuilding of self after destruction, which I think also suits Matt very well.

And thats about it. Thank you so much for letting me go on my little tirade. Tarot means a lot to me :).

🃏 Selfshiptober Day 20: Tarot 🃏

Selfshiptober by @sennamybeloved

Okay to Reblog <3

[merriamspoetry]

Human Stains In a Belittling Society

With government approved statues, the only open, unconcealed stain is usually the bird shit on the immobile statue’s head and shoulders which is scrubbed off by the city or government employee when it’s required. The irony is suitably lost on the common folk. At least most of them.

In Texas, we have the Alamo, which is a sacred monument in a Texan’s eyes. Even if it was the site of a wholesale slaughter of men taking over a Spanish Misson that had no military advantage whatsoever. It was still simple minded martyrdom with a simple minded political statement just made for the enthusiastic flag waving American that believes a lot of bullshit propaganda about the “Revolutionary War” and the fight for Independence.

The politician Davy Crockett has always been mentioned time and time again in Texas class rooms as the hero of the Alamo. Anyone calls him anything but that and you’re going to get your ass whipped by some prideful Texans. Nice monument but stupid move from a military stand point.

Davy Crockett was a washed up congressman seeking a way to resume his political career. He chose Texas to help him climb back up the ladder. He was in Texas three months before the battle of the Alamo and when he agreed to join the defenders it was like running with the wrong bunch of hell raisers that wants to rob the liquor store. Once you agree to a stupid plan then you’re a pussy to back out. So he was stupid enough to stay.

There is not one reliable witness that has claimed seeing his heroic actions at the Alamo, but there it is. An indelible stain that’s concealed for a no stain politician that was in Texas for three months and some how resembled some of George Washington’s heroics fighting the British.

The lower class has stains because of poverty, hopelessness and being told they are worthless. No statues are made for their sacrifices through keeping their families alive with the little money they have. The wealthy elite have an enormous amount of stains but those stains are concealed. Alcohol, drug abuse, high crimes and misdemeanors, brutality and psychotic episodes of murder. That human filth always have the best statues in the most beautiful public parks.

All this makes me want to ask this question to what supposedly seems to be the most intelligent animal species on planet earth. What makes an intelligent species have such an extreme negative view of themselves that they need to rely on other human beings who flow the same red blood as we do to be the leaders of the herd and humiliate them and trample them down like inhuman filth?

Death comes naturally. Life comes by brutal survival.

Very simple to understand but through the ages, this simple knowledge has become nonexistent in our great migration away from our environments that we used this knowledge in. All man made environment will terminate human existence very quickly where as humans in the natural environment we belong to will last until some natural Cosmic event beyond our power to do anything about destroys the earth . Live free and natural or live in large cities and let corrupt criminals ruin our whole world by destroying it through greed and Penny slavery.

We are far beyond the threshold of letting our masters destroy us. We are entering that dark tunnel and there is no light at the end of it.

[portfolio-ni-rizza]

Avengers: Endgame [Personal] Review

After 11 years and 21 films, we get the culmination to a cinematic franchise unlike anything we've ever seen before, and it is everything we expected it to be–even the bad ones.

What Avengers: Endgame does well, it does REALLY well. It's hard to imagine, at this point, any other franchise being able to churn out an output of this caliber. On the other hand, what Endgame got wrong, it got VERY wrong. And it's all the more frustrating to think they would never have gotten this right, anyway. Even with its (debatably) best release to date, the MCU still failed at the one thing it never got right: it's female heroes.

(But, to be fair, Marvel perennially disappoints every other character who isn't played by Robert Downey Jr., so no surprise here.)

So let's start with Endgame's biggest, most disgusting, but easily solvable mistake: killing off Black Widow.

To give credit where it's due, the Marvel comics was made at a time when women were still largely seen as less than a person; when their worth only went as far as their ability to hold babies in their wombs and arms. And with the MCU being heavily based on those materials, it's not surprising that the movies carried these oppressive sentiments too.

Even so, the MCU wasn't made in the 40s. Majority of it is set today, for today's audiences. So the fact that it still chose to carry those misogynistic, outdated values is just plain ridiculous. 

And the Black Widow, in all her iteration be it in the comics or movies, is still very much a product of those values. She is very rarely, if at all, portrayed as a person on her own, without being defined by her connections to others–specifically the men around her. In the MCU, this was most obvious in her god-awful portrayal at Whedon's Age of Ultron. She was the classic damsel in distress: just another girlfriend/wife character whose express purpose was to be saved by a man, and be a platform with which to show HIS heroics. Worse, Widow explicitly called herself a "monster" during AoU when she was talking about, of all things, being sterilized.

Umm... what? She thought herself a "monster", not because she kills people in cold blood, topples world organizations, and threatens the peace of nations... but because she can't be a mom?

Yikes.

AoU was already a massive fall from grace for Black Widow, from whom we finally got to see some well-deserved badassery, and definitive lack of sexualization, with The Winter Soldier JUST ONE MOVIE AGO. But what's even worse was that this same trope was covertly exploited again in Endgame with–literally–Black Widow sacrificing herself because Hawkeye has a (dead) family.

It's like, hey girls! If you don't have a family of your own, then feel free to throw yourself off a cliff! 

The MCU and its proliferation of male directors and producers never, ever knew what to do with Black Widow, so I imagine it was with a sigh of relief that they FINALLY got rid of her, the first chance they get. And if you think I'm making this up, guess again: Endgame writers themselves (Stephen McFeely, Christopher Markus) said, and I quote, "Her journey, in our minds, had come to an end if she could get the Avengers back."

That's it. That's the sum of Black Widow's character. She was always just a supporting role. She was never a plot. She was just another plot device. If her male colleagues can do their heroics, then her purpose for existing, in the writers' minds, has been served.

Never mind that Natasha Romanoff had the most character development in the entire franchise. Never mind that she was a direct support to 4 of 5 of the other Original Six, and was literally instrumental in making THEM into the heroes they were (Iron Man's recruitment, the Hulk's pathetic and flimsy lullaby, her partnerships with Hawkeye and Cap).

Maybe it might have been easier to take if she was as discarded as Hawkeye. But Black Widow didn't simply disappear in the mainstream storyline for periods of a time with a convenient explanation: she has always been at the center stage in one form or another. Always in conjunction with another character, sure, but THERE, regardless, which is more than we can say for Hawkeye, who really only appears (extensively) in Avengers movies.

But despite how central Black Widow actually is to the entire MCU, she still gets fridged at the first opportunity. Now that Marvel can safely say it has other females on the Avengers roster, they don’t hesitate to throw Widow under the bus (or off a cliff), and still manage to over-glorify and cloyingly romanticize female martyrdom at the expense of helping her male colleagues along. And she didn’t even get the send-off she deserved (hell, even Gamora had more drama around her death). They mourn her for all of 5 minutes, then she gets a passing mention in Tony’s funeral. Now a point can be argued that Iron Man is a public figure, he deserves a funeral, etc. etc., but think about the people who actually attended. None of them were outsiders. They were all, in one form or another, people in the Avengers immediate circle. There was no press. No cameras and grieving audiences ala Superman’s send-off in BvS. So why couldn't–didn't–they acknowledge Natasha Romanoff?

But it’s not over. Knowing full well that people will be angry at chucking off the MCU’s first real, if laughably flimsy, attempt at diversity, Endgame decides to soothe our ruffled feathers with, no surprise, fan service. The MCU may have killed off one of its most important female characters (both inside and outside the context of the cinematic universe), but fans can have 2 minutes of gIrL POwEr! Watch Captain Marvel zoom across an army of aliens (Where was she the whole time, by the way? Infinity War heavily implied a much important role for her, and they certainly touted her as the “strongest Marvel character” but she was completely useleess for 3/4s of the film… and barely on the last quarter), while the other sTRoNg ladies of the MCU have got her back!

Because 2 minutes is enough to compensate for a decade’s worth of callous disregard, of course.

And while those 2 minutes were certainly awesome and easily one of the highlights of the films, there’s no denying that it was all a blatant, pathetic attempt at pandering to a group Marvel never really much cared for. And those 2 minutes show you precisely what the MCU still is: a movie about boys, made by boys, for boys, who still don’t know how to handle women as people.

As amazing and kick-ass as those 2 minutes had been, they were an aberration in a longline of blatant disregard for female characters, and they could have easily been removed from the film because they contribute very, very little to the Infinity Saga’s narrative. McFeely and Marcus are even the first to admit: they only kept that scene in because it was “too fun”.

And just in case you think I’m just an angry, man-hating femi-nazi at this point, who only cares about fighting for women’s rights insofar as it puts me above men, look how Endgame also treated its male cast. Ant Man was nothing but a fussy, whiny, worrywart who couldn’t do the ONE thing that was supposed to be HIS thing: the quantum realm (guess who made that work? Iron Man!). Captain America was a selfish jerk who potentially messed up the entire MCU as we know it because he can’t get over his first crush (guess who was a selfless, self-sacrificing kid from New York? Iron Man!). The Hulk suddenly, miraculously lost the very essence of his character–his struggle between being Bruce and being the Hulk–with just a few punchlines about how he just decided to get the best of both worlds, as if he never could have possibly thought of that before, as if his struggles and demons never overwhelmed him so much to the point where he literally tried to kill himself (but guess, AGAIN, whose struggles and demons we DID see? Iron Man, of course you silly ninny!). Iron Man was given the VERY BEST of each of these characters, because duh, he’s Iron Man. Never mind that a SHARED cinematic universe wouldn’t have worked without other people to share it. Like the past three Avengers, Endgame is just another Iron Man movie. 

Thank GOD he’s dead.

Finally, FINALLY Iron Man is gone. The overrated, over-powered Golden Boy will darken the Marvel Cinematic Universe no more, and we might finally get a film franchise that DOESN’T unflinchingly throw its characters under the bus for the chance to give its poster boy his 15 seconds of glory. Looking back at how Russos, and the production team behind Endgame, shamelessly claimed that Endgame is the story of Cap, Widow, and everyone who didn’t get their screen time on Infinity War, it is all the more irritating to watch 3 more hours of plot-armored Iron Man “saving the day”.

And that’s the tea for today.

PS: Can we talk about the fact how the ending with Cap literally ruined the entire movie (and universe) because of his messing with the timeline?

[operationdisciple-blog]

DAY 2 OPERATION DISCIPLE

Part I: Living as a Disciple Maker

2: The Command to Make Disciples

Imagine your reaction if someone came back from the dead to speak to you. Seriously, try to imagine that right now. What would you feel? How intensely would you listen? How seriously would you take his or her words?

Think about what this must have been like for the disciples. They were working their everyday jobs when a mysterious teacher asked them to follow Him. As they followed, they saw Him challenge religious leaders, embrace sinners, heal the sick, and even raise the dead. They knew that He was not an ordinary man. At various times and to varying degrees, people saw Him as the Messiah who would bring salvation for God’s people. But He never quite fit anyone’s expectations of what the Messiah would do or say.

The disciples walked beside Jesus through all of this. They watched as the blind were given sight. They heard Jesus forgive the hopelessly unrighteous and restore the lives of the broken. They helped pass out bread and fish as Jesus miraculously fed huge crowds. The disciples seem to have been more aware of Jesus’s true identity at some points than at others, but they followed Him until the end, believing that He was the one who would restore the fortunes of God’s people.

And then He died. Just like that. It was over. It seemed that Jesus could do absolutely anything, that He had power over sickness, death, every person, and every thing. By this power, Jesus was bringing the healing and redemption that the world so desperately needed. But the disciples’ hopes of a better world died as Jesus was nailed to a Roman cross.

And so the disciples spent three days in confusion and disillusionment. Everything they had hoped for was gone. Perhaps they had wasted their time following this mysterious person for three years.

Then it happened. He came back from the dead! When Jesus reappeared on the third day, all of their hope came rushing back! Now there could be no doubt! Now that Jesus had conquered even sin and death, He would certainly fix this broken world. Jesus would accomplish what everyone was longing to see. There could be no stopping Him.

Once again, He surprised everyone. Instead of telling them that He would immediately transform the earth, Jesus gave His disciples one final command and ascended into heaven. Just like that, out of nowhere. What was the command? Essentially, He told them it was their job to finish what He started. They were to take the message that Jesus declared and exemplified in and around Jerusalem and spread that message to the very ends of the earth:

All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matt. 28:18– 20)

1.   Stop for a minute and read Matthew 28. Try to place yourself in the disciples’ shoes as they witnessed these things and heard these words from Jesus. How do you think you would have reacted?

The Great Commission and the Church

So what comes to your mind when you think about Jesus’s command to make disciples of all nations? Many read these words as if they were meant to inspire pastors or missionaries on their way out to the mission field. But have you ever considered that maybe Jesus’s command is meant for you?

As we read the rest of the New Testament, we see God’s people working together in obedience to Jesus’s command. They reached out to the people around them, calling them to obediently follow Jesus. The disciples went about making disciples, teaching them to obey everything that Jesus had commanded and baptizing them. Some of them even moved to different areas or traveled around so that they could tell more people. They took Jesus’s words seriously—and literally.

Reading through the New Testament, it’s not surprising to read that Jesus’s followers were focused on making disciples—it makes sense in light of Jesus’s ministry and the Great Commission. The surprise comes when we look at our churches today in light of Jesus’s command to make disciples.

Why is it that we see so little disciple making taking place in the church today? Do we really believe that Jesus told His early followers to make disciples but wants the twenty-first-century church to do something different? None of us would claim to believe this, but somehow we have created a church culture where the paid ministers do the “ministry,” and the rest of us show up, put some money in the plate, and leave feeling inspired or “fed.” We have moved so far away from Jesus’s command that many Christians don’t have a frame of reference for what disciple making looks like.

2. Assess your church experience in light of Jesus’s command to make disciples. Would you say that your church is characterized by disciple making? Why or why not?

More Than a Program

So what does disciple making look like? We have to be careful about how we answer this question. For some of us, our church experience has been so focused on programs that we immediately think about Jesus’s command to make disciples in programmatic terms. We expect our church leaders to create some sort of disciple-maker campaign where we sign up, commit to participating for a few months, and then get to cross the Great Commission off our list. But making disciples is far more than a program. It is the mission of our lives. It defines us. A disciple is a disciple maker.

So what does this look like? The Great Commission uses three phrases to describe what disciple making entails: go, baptize people, and teach them to obey everything Jesus commanded. Simple, right? It’s incredibly simple in the sense that it doesn’t require a degree, an ordination process, or some sort of hierarchical status. It’s as simple as going to people, encouraging them to follow Jesus (this is what baptism is all about), and then teaching them to obey Jesus’s commands (which we find in the Bible). The concept itself is not very difficult.

But the simplest things to understand are often the most difficult to put into practice. Let’s start with baptism. In your church setting, baptism may not seem like that big of a deal. Maybe that’s why so many Christians today have never been baptized. But in the early days of the church, baptism was huge. Baptism was an unmistakable act that marked a person as a follower of Jesus Christ. As Jesus died and was buried in the earth, so a Christian is plunged beneath the surface of the water. As Jesus emerged from the tomb in a resurrected body, so a Christian comes out of the waters of baptism as a new creation.

When first-century Christians took this step of identifying themselves with the death and resurrection of Jesus, they were publicly declaring their allegiance to Christ. This immediately marked them for martyrdom—all of the hostility that the world felt toward Jesus would now be directed at them. Baptism was a declaration that a person’s life, identity, and priorities were centered on Jesus and His mission. Depending on where you live in the world, you may not see the same reaction to your choice to be baptized, but that act of identifying with Christ is essential, no matter where you live.

3.   Have you identified yourself with Jesus through being baptized? If so, why do you think this was an important step for you to take? If not, what is holding you back from being baptized?

Just as baptism is more significant than we might have thought, so teaching people to obey Jesus’s commands is an enormous task. Realistically, this will require a lifetime of devotion to studying the Scriptures and investing in the people around us. Neither of these things is easy, nor can they be checked off of a list. We are never really “done.” We continually devote ourselves to studying the Scriptures so that we can learn with ever-greater depth and clarity what God wants us to know, practice, and pass on. We continually invest in the people around us, teaching them and walking with them through life’s joys and trials.

We never “finish” the discipleship process. It’s much like raising a child: though there comes a day when she is ready to be on her own, the relationship doesn’t end. The friendship continues, and there will always be times when guidance and encouragement are still needed. In addition to that, God continually brings new people into our path, giving us fresh opportunities to start the discipleship process all over again.

Following Jesus by making disciples isn’t difficult to understand, but it can be very costly. Jesus’s teachings are often difficult to stomach. By sharing His teachings, we are often rejected along with His message. Jesus said:

If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you: “A servant is not greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you. If they kept my word, they will also keep yours. (John 15:18–20)

It’s easy enough to understand, but it can be extremely costly.

4. Would you say that you’re ready to commit yourself to studying the Scriptures and investing in the people around you? Why or why not?

Equipped to Do the Work of Ministry

Unfortunately, disciple making has become the exclusive domain of pastors (and missionaries). Salesmen sell, insurance agents insure, and ministers minister. At least, that’s the way it works in most of our churches.

While it’s true that the pastors, elders, and apostles in the New Testament made disciples, we can’t overlook the fact that discipleship was everyone’s job. The members of the early church took their responsibility to make disciples very seriously. To them, the church wasn’t a corporation run by a CEO. Rather, they compared the church to a body that functions properly only when every member is doing its part.

Paul explained the function of the church in Ephesians 4:11–16:

He gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ … we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.

Paul saw the church as a community of redeemed people in which each person is actively involved in doing the work of ministry. The pastor is not the minister—at least not in the way we typically think of a minister. The pastor is the equipper, and every member of the church is a minister.

The implications are huge. Don’t think of this as merely a theological issue. See yourself in this passage. Paul said that your job is to do the work of ministry! Jesus commanded you to make disciples!

Most Christians can give a number of reasons why they cannot or should not disciple other people: “I don’t feel called to minister.” “I just have too much on my plate right now; I don’t have time to invest in other people.” “I don’t know enough.” “I have too many issues of my own. I’ll start once I get my life in order.”

As convincing as these excuses may seem to us, Jesus’s commands don’t come with exception clauses. He doesn’t tell us to follow unless we’re busy. He doesn’t call us to love our neighbors unless we don’t feel prepared. In fact, if you read Luke 9:57–62, you’ll see several individuals who gave excuses for why they couldn’t follow Jesus at the time. Read the passage and take note of how Jesus responded to them. It may surprise you.

God made you the way you are; He has provided and will continue to provide you with everything you need to accomplish the task. Jesus commands you to look at the people around you and start making them into disciples. Obviously, only God can change people’s hearts and make them want to become followers. We just have to be obedient in making the effort to teach them, even though we still have plenty to learn ourselves.

5.   What excuses tend to keep you from following Jesus’s command to make disciples? What do you need to do in order to move past these excuses?

Taking the First Step

Being a disciple maker means that you will begin to look at the people in your life differently. Every person in your life is created in the image of God, and Jesus commands every one of them to follow Him. God has placed these people in your life so that you will do everything you can to influence them. Following Jesus means that you will be teaching other people to follow Jesus.

Take some time to consider your first step toward disciple making. Whom has God placed in your life that you can teach to follow Jesus? Maybe God is laying someone on your heart you don’t know very well. Your first step could be building a relationship with that person. Maybe it’s someone you’ve known for years, and God is calling you to take that relationship to another level. God has placed you where you are, and the people around you are not there by accident. Keep in mind that the Great Commission calls us to every type of person, to those inside of the church as well as to those outside, to those who are like us and those who are very different. Everyone needs to understand who Jesus is and what it means to follow Him.

6.    Whom has God placed in your life right now that you can begin making into a disciple of Jesus Christ?

Working Together to Make Disciples

God wants you to view the other Christians in your life as partners in ministry. God has not called you to make disciples in isolation; He has placed you in the context of a church body so that you can be encouraged and challenged by the people around you. And you are called to encourage and challenge them in return.

As you begin this study, think about how you will proceed. Are there Christians in your life you can study this material with? Are there mature believers you can approach with the questions that will inevitably arise? The goal is for you to think through this material and let these truths saturate your mind, heart, and lifestyle. But you’ll get a lot more out of this if you have other people to talk with, be challenged by, and work together with. Human beings are simply not designed to function in isolation.

7.       Whom has God placed in your life for you to partner with in making disciples?

8.       Spend some time praying that God will make you into a committed and effective disciple maker. Confess any feelings of unpreparedness and insecurity. Ask Him to empower you for the ministry He is calling you to. Ask Him to lead you to the right people to partner with and the right people to begin discipling.

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